Tantalus
by Aprill May
Summary: [MS] And she always, always refused him. One shot.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

(10/24/04)

**A/N:** Written in the early hours, once again. Confusing, dark, and generally odd. Much thanks to Soli-chan for staying up to work with me on it. We are insomniacs together. And yes, this is weird. Enjoy?

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_My final sight would be a frozen, icy glacier, a crane flying amidst the swirl of cherry blossoms, and in the distance, a refuge._****

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_Transience._

_I've always wanted our children to be born in the Autumn._

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**TANTALUS**

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****It was in the heart of the winter when I _knew_. 

The trees were brittle, and with one overbearing twist the branches would snap. 

Ice coating the surfaces of lakes would crack, and from the crack would form many others, their shape conceiving that of a spiderweb before the fragments dispersed and I, standing in the middle of that web would fall through the center into water that chilled me to the bone.****

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****To me, it was pathetic that I had reached that level of fragility.****

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****They didn't know, I didn't tell them. I never would. They believed me when I promised I wouldn't keep those kinds of secrets from them, but I did anyway. 

If I were to be reborn, I think I'd like to be a crane. _Tsuru_, the crane; a symbol of longevity, something I did not have. 

They flew with necks outstretched, never folded. 

To see a crane is to be marked with _luck_. 

I laugh at that, a silent, mirthless laugh. 

The crane is protected by the rulers and fed by the peasants. 

The last thing I remember of the crane is that it mates for life.****

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****What I truly was in a past life, I cannot fathom. My theory was that it was something that died a pitiful death, alone and isolated. 

Perhaps I was a cherry blossom tree? Beautiful, sprawling, with a short life and symbolizing resignation and melancholy. Yes, maybe that was it. 

Save for the fact that those trees are remembered long after their demise for their beauty. 

What did I have so redeemable that anyone would care to remember me?****

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****Perhaps she would. I thought she would remember me. 

Sango. She was an oasis. 

Fertile and green in a desert or wasteland, alluring and beautiful; and _calling_ to you, enticing you, _tempting_ you to run to her and lay beneath her shade, drink of her water and be _nourished_. 

A lost man, mindless with exhaustion, dying in desperation, crawling on his hands and knees hoping to receive but a mouthful of sweet nourishment was negligent to the fact that he was tasting hot sand. The oasis was but a mirage, a simple illusion. 

I was staggering through a wasteland, clutching my chest, my arm, seeing a sanctuary apart from the horror that surrounded me. I fell to my knees, wishing, demanding something to keep me alive; anything. 

She always, _always_ refused me. 

And I was negligent to the fact that I was tasting blood as I bit my tongue when she hit me. 

It's not like I didn't know why. Even in failing to understand myself, I tried to understand her; my haven, my refuge. 

She's been through more than any single person I've ever encountered;_ endured_ so much. The single fact alone that she had cheated death was enough to place her on a pedestal. 

It was a pedestal placed so high, that I could not reach her. 

I sought women that were below her. 

Why, why would you do that? If you knew she was something _more_, then why? 

In my mind, she was above me. A woman of her stature, her bravery and demure fragility in such a balance I could not comprehend. How could I? 

I could not treat her that way though that was what she _was_. I knew . . . I _felt_ her becoming drawn to me. To see a crane is to be marked with luck. 

To desire me, is to be marked with death. 

I was a rogue, a casual drinker, a womanizer, a thief, a conman. I explained myself with the story of my life and the philosophies I had been brought up by, but inside I was merely selfish. Life had taken so much - _so much_ - from me, that I felt I was _justified_, even _deserving_ pardon for what I did. Despite this side of me, I always knew I was wrong. 

Was this my _punishment_? 

It was in the heart of winter when I _knew_. 

She knew. She was the one that dropped her weapon and caught me, her small hands fisting in my robes and her breaths, puffs of air becoming white vapour around us. 

If I lowered my head to share my breath with her, if I held her hands between mine and promised myself to her, she would refuse. 

I was crawling in a wasteland, holding my arm and falling to my knees, desiring but a taste of nourishment. 

Was it only I that failed to see the irony in her actions? Why did she chose now, of all moments, to hold me, to return my touch, to trace my lips with her fingers and cry? 

So I'll fist my hands, tilt her head back roughly and kiss her. It is a kiss full of spite, frustration, longing, all of those things she has made me feel ever since I realized that she was _different._

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__I pull away, as harshly as I had initiated the action, and her body falls forward to keep the contact between us. 

I smile darkly, embittered. _Now_ she's wanting more? _Now_ she wants to be in my arms, holding me and not letting go. 

And she says my name. 

_"Houshi-sama . . . Miroku . . ."_

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__Stop crying, love. 

_"I'm not going to leave you."_

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__I was the skeletal frame of a man in a barren wasteland, clutching my arm with worn, stiff fingers and breathing my last.__

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__It was a shame that a taijiya like her, perhaps the last of her kind, would not die honorably in battle, but cowering beside the broken shell of a man who died a long time ago. 

A long time ago, I wouldn't have thought that she would die like this as well. 

I knew that I would. 

_"Miroku . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. All those times . . . "_

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__Was she really?__

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__She offers me apologies? They are little a consolation. I knew. I knew that our circumstances would promise us no less than this. To me, death and nonfulfillment. My mind was marred with regret and disdain, and she did not help. I would be trapped forever between these two worlds. I was fearful for my own judgement. 

In all honestly, did I actually have an inkling, a shred of hope that Sango and I would live the life we dreamed of together? Perhaps I did, long ago. 

I crawled towards the oasis, the water and the provisions right before my shaking hands. All I have to do was lower my lips to the clear, flowing, _tempting_ water, hoping this was not a mirage. 

And I drank. 

She was life and she was death, fading away. Or maybe, through all the delusions and my tainted mind, that which faded was me. 

At least, we would always have this. 

I had never known the day, the time, the hour. 

Now I did. 

It was in the heart of winter, in a bitter, freezing wasteland, the sky a blur of grey and purple, when I _knew_. 

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_My final sight would be a frozen, icy glacier, a crane flying amidst the swirl of cherry blossoms, and in the distance, a refuge._****

****

_Transience._

_I've always wanted our children to be born in the Autumn._

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End file.
